


Valentine's Day Song Challenge

by BainAduial



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: M/M, songfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BainAduial/pseuds/BainAduial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was my response to the Valentine's Day Drabble challenge on the Marcus/Neroon Yahoo Group. Rules are in the notes. 10 drabbles, plus a longer story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 10 Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> The Rules:  
> 1\. Take Marcus and Neroon writer may use other characters  
> 2\. Pick your favorite love songs and put them on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.  
> Write a drabble/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwords!  
> 4\. Do ten of these, then post them.  
> 5\. Once you have posted the 10 drabbles members of the list then can take a vote on which of the 10 was their favorite. Once a favorite has been picked then you must write a short or long story on that one drabble only.
> 
> Several of these drabbles later found their way into the Minbari Courtship universe.

1) “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” by Belinda Carlisle (this song is way more suited to Marcus and Neroon than I thought it was, now that I’ve gone and looked up the lyrics.)

Marcus stood on one of the many balconies of the Star Riders estate, staring up at the stars. Even after three years of marriage to Neroon, the stars of Minbar were sometimes unfamiliar. 

Neroon’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and the Ranger smiled as he turned into his husband’s arms. Below their perch the sound of children’s voices echoed from the astronomy class being held for the Clan’s younger members. Marcus chuckled to hear their own Fara’s voice raised in question.

“You seem tense,” Neroon observed quietly. “Are you still thinking about Chad?” Marcus had gone with a small group of Rangers to return the young man’s body to earth a few weeks before.

Marcus shook his head. “Not anymore,” he murmured, leaning back slightly to smile into his husband’s eyes, glad to be home. He’d probably never stop missing the other Ranger, but it was time to pick up his life again. “Dance with me?”

Neroon smiled back and spun him about the balcony carefully. The Minbari Warrior had become astonishingly good at the waltz since Marcus had first taught it to him during their courtship. “Whenever you wish, ah’cala. Whenever you wish,” he promised.

Marcus leaned into him, swaying in his arms as the Minbari night deepened around them.

 

2) “Fare Thee Well, Love” by the Rankin Family. (I love this song)

“Do you have to go?” Marcus asked, sipping his tea as calmly as he could given the situation. At least holding the teacup gave him something to do with his hands, since they were in a public restaurant on the Zocalo and he definitely couldn’t touch his companion as he wanted to.

Neroon nodded seriously at the human he’d developed such an unexpected friendship with after the Denn’shah. It could perhaps have someday been more than friendship, but they’d probably never discover that now. Neroon was on one of his all-too-rare visits to the station, this one cut short as they so often were by duty. He was called home to Minbar to assist in settling a civil dispute that had turned violent for the first time in centuries.

“Then drink with me,” Marcus asked. “I can share this with you, at least, before you go.”

“It is more than enough,” Neroon said, both their words covering what they really wanted to say. I’ll miss you. Be careful. And, just possibly, I love you. It was tentative and unformed and unsure, but the first beginnings of it were there.

Neroon’s communicator went off, and he answered the summons back to his ship with more reluctance than he ever had before. 

“Will we meet again?” Marcus asked as Neroon stood to leave.

“I don’t know,” Neroon answered. “I don’t know.”

“Then take my heart,” Marcus murmured suddenly, quietly, in Adrihi’e so no one would understand them. 

Neroon bowed deeply, honoured, then turned and left the human sitting at the table, a cooling cup of tea his only legacy.

 

3) “Everything You Want” by Vertical Horizon (okay, not sure where this came from, and it didn’t end up being a romantic story even though I thought it would when I started… oops?)

“You never quite got it, did you?” Ivanova asked her companion as they leaned on a balustrade of the Zocalo. Babyon 5 was quiet these days, now that the universe had mostly settled down. Sheridan’s death two years before had ensured the old station’s decline into obscurity. 

“Got what?” Marcus asked. He shifted position slightly and winced, old injuries making themselves known.

“This place,” Ivanova answered. “Sheridan. Me. Everything that happened here.”

Marcus frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What happened here, back then… it was everything you wanted. Heroic, good against evil, all that bullshit.”

“And?” Marcus wondered.

“And you’re still running away from it, even after all this time,” Susan observed quietly. “Stop running, Marcus. Why are you even here? Go home, take the teaching position on Minbar. Stop running away from the anger of the angels of your past. Stop trying so damned hard to be everything that this place stood for. Stop putting all of us on such a fucking huge pedestal, as if we weren’t just as human and fallible as you are. Just go home, Marcus, and try to find some way to live with yourself as you are instead of wishing you were someone else.”

Marcus could only gape at her.

 

4) “Tell Me What Love Is (Voi Che Sapete)” by Mozart (I almost wrote porn to Mozart, and then I discovered that I actually couldn’t quite make my brain go there. Because first, it would be porn, which I never write. And secondly, it would be porn to MOZART. Just no…)

Marcus glared at the punching bag he was currently engaged in a battle to the death with as it came around for another go. He took somewhat exaggerated pleasure in smacking it back as hard as he could, the chains holding it up rattling as it swung wildly. He would conquer this. He had to; it was starting to detract from his work. He’d be going along just fine and then an image of Neroon, stern, commanding, and entirely too smug and attractive in his full uniform would wander through his brain uninvited and taunt him.

Marcus had just about had enough; he couldn’t escape the images waking or sleeping, and they were getting less and less family-rated as time went on.

“That’s one punching bag that will never bother us again,” Susan observed, wandering into the gym just as Marcus’ next swing brought the entire bag crashing to the floor.

Marcus turned to her, breathing hard and nowhere near through working out his irritation. “Fine, then YOU tell me what to do with these bloody… feelings!” he shouted, unaware that he was offering a fine spectacle to everyone else in the gym.

Including a Warrior Caste Alyt who had just happened to need a place to work off some excess energy of his own…

 

5) “Save Tonight” by Eagle Eye Cherry (I seem to be on a not-entirely-happy-ending theme tonight… no idea why. Stupid possessed music shuffler…)

“Duty,” Neroon sighed, setting down his drink as he stared into the flickering flames. They were holed up in one of the outbuildings on the Star Riders estate; no one would come to interrupt them here.

“Would you love me as you do, if I was the sort of man who could refuse an order that might save lives?” Marcus wondered, watching his husband seriously from a few feet away.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Neroon sighed again. “That does not mean I enjoy sending you into a war zone when I am bound to my duties here.”

“Do you think I want to go? To leave you?” Marcus asked, heart in his voice. “But if I don’t, people will die. No one else has the training for a mission like this; I wish to God I didn’t!” Marcus’ voice clearly communicated how conflicted he was over that wish; without someone with his particular skills, hundreds of people would die. But it was almost certainly a suicide mission, and Marcus had only just gained something to live for.

Neroon reached his hand out and drew his mala into his embrace. “You leave tomorrow?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.

Marcus nodded against his shoulder. 

“Then let us make tonight a night to remember,” Neroon murmured, bearing his husband down onto the thick blankets before the fire.

 

6) “Without You” from Rent (original Broadway cast) (Gah, again with the depressing love songs. I swear I have happy ones in my collection, really!)

Neroon walked along the old familiar pathways of the estate, leaning heavily on the cane that had once belonged to his Aunt Aalann. The rest of the Clan refrained from interrupting him, even though he knew well they watched from various locations as he passed. 

He was just reaching the edge of the forest that bordered the living complex when Fara caught up to him. She’d grown into such a beautiful young woman, he reflected yet again. Clan matriarch, Alyt of her own warship, and the happy mother of three strong boys. He could have asked for no better future for her.

“Papa?” she asked, falling into step beside him. “Are you all right?”

Neroon kept walking. “It’s funny,” he observed instead of answering her. “Nothing’s changed, but everything has. The universe keeps going; Minbar keeps turning, the crops spring up in the fields. But without…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. Even months after the funeral, he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“He was always going to die before you,” Fara pointed out gently. “He was human. He died very old and very happy, papa.”

“And life here goes on without him,” Neroon murmured, looking around at the fields.

“Yes,” Fara agreed. “But look around you. He’s here everywhere. The kids are playing human tag in the fields, the farmers are singing human folksongs, Aunt Ardiri is pressing the apples so we can have not-quite-cider this winter…” she trailed off.

“Everything keeps turning,” Neroon murmured again. His eyes, still sharp despite his advanced age, finally focused on his daughter. “Oh God, Fara,” he choked, unable to get the rest of whatever he wanted to say out. It was the first time in his life he’d called on the human deity instead of Valen. The tears he’d held at bay for months finally came, flooding down his face. “Oh God. What do I do without him?”

 

7) “Mairi’s Wedding” by the Rankin Family (Rastenn = Bold Roamer)

“Would you get a move on!” Marcus hollered into the bedroom at his husband.

“Would you take a deep breath!” Neroon returned, chuckling as he stepped out of the room and caught his mala in arms like bands of steel. “Stop vibrating, Marcus. Calm down.”

“Calm down!” Marcus objected. “Our daughter is about to get married, and you want me to calm down!”

“Rastenn is a good man, and you like him,” Neroon reminded the human, laughing. 

“Of course I like him, Neroon! But our daughter is getting married!”

Neroon just rolled his eyes and released his husband, letting the human lead him out of their rooms and down the hall towards the bright summer sun that could be seen through the open doors to the courtyard. Marcus’ rosebush released a heady scent into the air as they passed and Neroon bowed to it, something he never failed to do, much to the amusement of his spouse.

“Papa! Dad!” Fara exclaimed as they came around the corner and into the area marked off for the ceremony. 

Marcus seized her in a hug. Fara just smiled and squeezed him back, glowing with happiness in her brightly embroidered robes. 

 

8) “What Makes You Different” by the Backstreet Boys (Shakat= Insatiably Curious. As a name, I like it. :)

Neroon entered their rooms quietly and paused just inside the door. Marcus was planted firmly on the floor, their first grandchild safely caged in by pillows. The human was pretending to hide behind a variety of improbable objects that certainly didn’t succeed in concealing him, then popping out and making faces at the baby. Neroon couldn’t imagine what on Minbar he was trying to accomplish, and from the expression on his face, neither could young Shakat.

“Marcus?” Neroon asked after a long moment spent staring incredulously at his mala.

“Neroon!” Marcus jumped slightly, then blushed. “This… er… isn’t what it looks like?” Marcus tried.

Neroon shook his head, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. “If I had any idea what it was supposed to look like, that might help,” he admitted.

Marcus flushed harder. “I was trying to play peek-a-boo, but it wasn’t quite working… apparently another difference I didn’t know about. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m never going to master all the ways Minbari children aren’t like human children.”

Neroon gave in to his laughter, moving further into the room to seize Marcus and the baby in a gentle hug. “Don’t even try,” he begged. “Moments like this are far too precious to me.”

 

9) “Shadow-Lover” written by Mercedes Lackey, performed by Heather Alexander (yes, I actually have this music, for any of you who recognized that first name… and yes, I have no life…)

Marcus sat in a corner of Susan’s rooms on Babylon 5, picking out a gentle melody on the guitar someone had brought to the gathering. He couldn’t quite call it a party; everyone was far too tense for that. But it was a gathering. He hummed along quietly, not really aware of what was going on about him. It had been years since he’d touched a guitar, but some of it appeared to have stayed with him.

“That’s beautiful,” Susan commented, sinking down to sit beside him. The party appeared to have moved away from them for the time being. “What is it?”

“Old folk song,” Marcus answered. “It seemed appropriate.” 

Susan listened for a moment as he sang the next verse quietly, almost under his breath. “It’s not a love song, is it?” she asked. 

Marcus chuckled softly. “Depends on how you mean love song. The original meaning?” he shook his head. “The lover in the song is death.”

“And you intend to go courting death, do you?” She snorted. “Take my word for it, Marcus… if death wants you, it’ll court you, and you’ll have no choice in the matter.”

“Perhaps,” Marcus agreed. “But perhaps I’m not singing about death, either. I only said that was the original meaning.” He continued playing, trailing off the end of the song, a dream from several nights before of stern dark eyes watching him down the length of a denn’bok haunting him. He wished he knew who the strange Minbari that had invaded his dreams lately was…

 

10) “In Your Eyes” by Okazaki Ritsuko (from the show Project A-ko)

Marcus felt like he was floating, hearing someone speaking from the end of a long tunnel. He frowned, trying to focus on something other than the fuzz that seemed to have invaded his brain. He remembered standing in the dark, blocking the path of a Minbari Warrior; he remembered challenging Denn’shah. He remembered pain, and that last remembrance brought him awake with a snap in time to hear Neroon’s quiet confession. 

He said something flippant in response; he always said something flippant, especially when his brain wasn’t firing on all available cylinders. Neroon threw his head back and laughed, and as the delighted dark eyes met his own, Marcus’ brain derailed all over again for an entirely different reason.

For some reason, those eyes made him believe in a future he’d never thought he would have. A future by the side of this Warrior. He shook his head. It was probably the drugs talking.


	2. Tell Me What Love Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does one do when one’s life is turned upside down by a mysterious stranger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the VDay Song Drabble Challenge: the song I expanded for this one was "Voi Che Sapete". By popular demand, I also included part of the drabbles from "Shadow Lover" and "In Your Eyes".

Marcus sat in a corner of Susan’s rooms on Babylon 5, picking out a gentle melody on the guitar someone had brought to the gathering. He couldn’t quite call it a party; everyone was far too tense for that. But it was a gathering. He hummed along quietly, not really aware of what was going on about him. It had been years since he’d touched a guitar, but some of it appeared to have stayed with him.

“That’s beautiful,” Susan commented, sinking down to sit beside him. The party appeared to have moved away from them for the time being. “What is it?”

“Old folk song,” Marcus answered. “It seemed appropriate.” 

Susan listened for a moment as he sang the next verse quietly, almost under his breath. “It’s not a love song, is it?” she asked. 

Marcus chuckled softly. “Depends on how you mean love song. The original meaning?” he shook his head. “The lover in the song is death.”

“And you intend to go courting death, do you?” She snorted. “Take my word for it, Marcus… if death wants you, it’ll court you, and you’ll have no choice in the matter.”

“Perhaps,” Marcus agreed. “But perhaps I’m not singing about death, either. I only said that was the original meaning.” He continued playing, trailing off the end of the song, a dream from several nights before of stern dark eyes watching him down the length of a denn’bok haunting him. He wished he knew who the strange Minbari that had invaded his dreams lately was.

“Who are you singing about, then?” Susan asked, snagging a couple of drinks from someone passing their corner with a tray. The room should have felt crowded, with all of the usual suspects who could claim anything to do with the running of the station crammed into it, but somehow they all managed to fit without bumping into each other.

“Dreams,” Marcus responded. Susan looked puzzled, and Marcus tried to find the words to explain further, reminding him that these people didn’t know him well enough yet to be used to the odd way his mind worked. 

“What kind of dreams?” Susan asked with a smirk before he could formulate his explanation.

“Not that kind,” Marcus snickered back. “Have you ever dreamed about someone, and known they were out there somewhere, you just hadn’t met them yet?” he asked.

Susan shrugged, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. “I have enough trouble with the past and present; I try not to know too much about the future,” she joked.

Marcus chuckled. “And that is why you are saner than I am, Commander. But then, most people are. Here, do you know the one about the Shepherd?” he changed the tune he was playing, belting out one of the bawdiest songs he knew. To his astonishment, while the rest of the room looked at him as though he were insane, G’Kar evidently knew not only the words but the harmonies as well.

***

Had Marcus known he was about to meet his dream companion he might have dressed for the occasion, he reflected a few weeks later. Oh well; Ranger uniform would have to do. He opened his pike with barely a thought.

“The only way you will get to Delenn is through me,” he declared, feeling like the entire universe had gathered around this one moment in the dark of Babylon 5’s lower levels. “I invoke Denn’shah.”

“To the death,” his opponent murmured snidely. “In the war I killed thirty thousand of you. What’s one more?”

Marcus barely heard the rest of the challenge. He remembered afterwards that he’d refused to stand down; did the Minbari think he had no honour? As if one had to have spikes coming out of one’s head to be worth anything! Marcus had thrown himself into the battle, but he’d known it was a futile effort. He was good, well-trained, limber, and experienced. But this was a Minbari challenge for a Minbari ceremony, and even if he hadn’t been distracted by flashes of his dreams he would have thrown the fight. Things would be hard enough for Delenn without an Alyt of the Warrior Caste dying at the hands of a human at the very moment she became Anla’Shok Na.

As he lay on the floor, feeling every breath he took as a stab of agony from broken ribs, he stared up the length of a denn’bok into fathomless dark eyes and almost laughed. So the lover he’d thought he dreamed of had been death after all.

“For her,” he proclaimed instead. “We live for the One, we die for the One. Isil’zha veni. In Valen’s name,” he gasped the last, and saw the Minbari’s eyes widen before he withdrew his pike and stormed from the room.

Marcus smiled slightly as he leaned back, more than a little delirious with pain. “In Valen’s name,” he whispered again. “Neroon…” he fell into darkness.

***

God was having far too much fun at his expense, Marcus decided as he swam slowly back to consciousness to the sound of the Warrior’s slow voice. It sounded like what he imagined a deep, slow river back on earth would sound like, meandering through an ancient forest somewhere far away from people. Calm and meditative, with hidden depths few could guess at.

The rest of his surroundings registered slowly. MedLab. Ah. So Neroon hadn’t come to finish him off after all. He focused more closely on the Alyt’s words, catching the end of his confession. Marcus wished he had the muscle control to smile; that admission deserved some kind of response.

“The next time,” he rasped out, then had to pause to wet a throat that was beyond dry; he must’ve been on a ventilator at some point, because nothing else left that kind of aftertaste. “The next time… you want a revelation… could you possibly find a way that isn’t quite so… uncomfortable?”

Neroon threw his head back and laughed, and as the delighted dark eyes met his own, Marcus’ brain derailed all over again for an entirely different reason. For some reason, those eyes made him believe in a future he’d never thought he would have. A future by the side of this Warrior. He shook his head. That HAD to be the drugs talking…

***

The next time he woke up Susan was by his bedside, looking impatient and pissed off by turns.

“I thought you weren’t courting death?” she snapped, when she saw he was awake. “What the hell was that, Marcus?”

“A dance with the devil,” Marcus chuckled, then winced. Bad idea. “Did I worry you?”

Susan smacked him with a pillow. “Do you realize the diplomatic incident you almost created? Were you trying to restart the war, or were you just not thinking?”

Marcus shook his head. “Neither. I did what I had to.”

“Well, I hope you got something more out of it than bruises and broken bones,” Susan growled. “Alyt Neroon has decided to stay around for a while to learn, or so he claims, but I don’t trust him. He’s been hovering around waiting for you to wake up. I think he wants a rematch.”

Marcus smiled at that. “He’s welcome to it, but he’ll have to wait a few weeks.”

“You DO have a death wish!” Susan threw up her hands. 

“I don’t, Susan,” Marcus denied, feeling the good drugs start to pull him under again. “He’s the man from my dreams.”

Susan snorted. “This has just gotten too star-crossed even for me, and I’m Russian,” she grumbled, showing herself out as Marcus dropped off into sleep again. “Man of your dreams indeed! He just tried to kill you! Although… maybe this’ll keep you from giving me ridiculous flowers anymore…” she walked off muttering to herself, grin growing steadily more evil as she plotted ways to get the Ranger off her back once and for all.

Beings of a hundred races fled from that smile.

***

A few weeks later, his ribs once again in fighting trim and stray thoughts no longer being magnified by the good drugs, Marcus was far less amused by Neroon’s continuing presence. The Minbari had spent the intervening time hovering on the edge of Marcus’ life, studying him like a laboratory specimen. He’d asked intelligent questions and generally made himself useful, but Marcus couldn’t shake the feeling that he suddenly lived in a fishbowl. It was uncomfortable, the more so because he couldn’t articulate WHY precisely Neroon’s presence bothered him. The rest of the staff had taken to sharing amused looks when they thought he wasn’t watching.

Marcus was about two steps away from suspecting a conspiracy; it wasn’t paranoia if they were really out to get you, after all. He’d even begun spending far more time than usual – and probably more than was wise – in the gym, taking his frustrations out on the punching bag. He tried to pretend it was Neroon, but he didn’t really want to hit the Minbari. Well, all right, he DID want to hit him, but not really. But the Alyt was always THERE, being so nice and reasonable and intelligent and honourable and… It was enough to drive a perfectly innocent Ranger mad!

Further, he could swear Susan was laughing at him. Marcus glared at the punching bag he was currently engaged in a battle to the death with as it came around for another go. He took somewhat exaggerated pleasure in smacking it back as hard as he could, the chains holding it up rattling as it swung wildly. He would conquer this. He had to; it was starting to distract him from his work. He’d be going along just fine and then an image of Neroon, stern, commanding, and entirely too smug and attractive in his full uniform would wander through his brain uninvited and taunt him. And the images were getting more suggestive all the time.

“That’s one punching bag that will never bother us again,” Susan observed, wandering into the gym just as Marcus’ next swing brought the entire bag crashing to the floor.

Marcus turned to her, breathing hard and nowhere near through working out his irritation. “Fine, then YOU tell me what to do with these bloody… feelings!” he shouted, unaware that he was offering a fine spectacle to everyone else in the gym. Including a Warrior Caste Alyt who had just happened to need a place to work off some excess energy of his own.

“What feelings?” Susan asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smirk.

“You bloody well know,” Marcus griped. 

“No, I really don’t,” Susan lied.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” Marcus told her. 

“Come on,” Susan changed the subject, grinning openly at him. “You need a drink.”

“A stiff one,” Marcus agreed with a sigh, then glared at a couple of nearby humans who were giggling incoherently. “You’re all perverts, you realize?” he growled as Susan dragged him out of the gym.

“Now, tell me what the problem is,” Susan continued their conversation once she’d hauled him into her favourite bar and shoved him onto a stool. The bartender either read her expression or had been warned ahead of time; he simply left the bottle.

“I don’t have a problem,” Marcus growled. “Everyone else seems to.”

Susan snickered, pouring them both large servings of something that smelled like it could strip varnish. “Marcus, it’s generally accepted as fact that if you’re the only one reacting to something, you’re the one with the problem.”

“That’s just because he’s brainwashed all of you,” Marcus grumbled. “It’s some… Minbari mind trick.” He waved his hand vaguely, and slammed back his drink. His eyes watered. “Good GOD, what is that?”

“The bartender calls it a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster. He had a very odd expression on his face when he said it; I thought it best not to ask.”

Marcus, who had actually read several antique classics of the science fiction genre and thus got the joke, snorted but made no attempt to explain. He simply poured himself another.

“Come on, Marcus. You’re going to land back in MedLab at this rate. We’re worried about you.”

“I don’t understand any more than you do,” Marcus defended himself. “I can’t explain it. All I know is, every time he’s anywhere near me, I get twitchy and I can’t calm down and… I don’t know how to explain it, Susan.”

Susan eyeballed him carefully, then moved the bottle aside when he filled his glass a third time. Hers was still untouched. “You really don’t know what’s going on here, do you?” she asked sympathetically.

“No,” Marcus snorted again. “You think I’d make such a spectacle of myself if I did?”

“Marcus, have you ever been in love?” Susan asked. “Or even a crush, as a teenager?”

“Do you have any idea what mining planets are like?” Marcus returned. “Hostile environment, barely breathable, no free time, backbreaking labour… there weren’t any children on Arisia but me and Will. Not more than one or two married couples apart from our parents, either. Not a good life for it. By the time I got into EarthForce in my twenties, during the war, I’d long passed the age where you’re supposed to have your first relationship. Everyone just assumed I had, and I didn’t know anything, and after a certain point it was easier to shut up and let them assume than ask someone to explain everything. So no, Susan, I haven’t.”

Susan blinked. Somehow, she’d never actually thought about the childhoods of many of her friends. Given how much her own had impacted later events, was it so surprising other people had similar issues? But that wasn’t helping Marcus. 

“Why do you ask?” the Ranger finally wondered, eyes beginning to glaze over slightly. Susan figured she’d get maybe five more minutes of semi-coherency out of him before the alcohol really hit his system and she had to haul him back to his quarters.

“Because you’ve been acting like a kid with his first crush when you’re near Neroon. That’s why the staff is laughing at you. We think it’s cute,” she admitted.

Marcus’ jaw dropped, and then Marcus himself dropped, sliding out of his chair to land in a heap on the floor. Susan sighed and paid for their drink, sharing a knowing look with her favourite bartender before hefting Marcus up and helping him stumble to his quarters. 

She met Neroon in the hallway just three junctions down from her destination. The Minbari’s eyes widened when he saw her burden.

“Is he injured?” Neroon asked, concern poorly concealed.

“No,” Susan gasped. Bloody Ranger was heavier than he looked. “Just drunk. We had a chat.”

Neroon blinked, shrugged, and took some of his weight from her. “Is drinking during conversation traditional for humans?” he asked.

Susan chuckled. “Sometimes,” she said, overriding Marcus’ door with her security codes. Between the two of them they got the insensate Ranger through the door and flopped him onto his bed. Susan was all for leaving him that way, but Neroon took the time to straighten his limbs out and find him a pillow.

“On what occasions?” Neroon wondered.

Susan shrugged. “Discussions of relationships seem to require it. The human heart is a difficult thing to sort out, and most people find it difficult to talk about. Alcohol lowers inhibitions in humans. I think I should’ve picked something a little less strong, though… I seem to have lowered more than his inhibitions.”

“Will he suffer for this when he wakes up?” 

Susan shrugged again. “Don’t know. Probably not; I’ve seen him drink most of us under the table. At worst he’ll be disoriented and suffering from a headache. I have to return to duty.” She gestured at the door, clearly indicating him to precede her.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to stay until he wakes up. I have something to discuss with Anla’Shok Cole, and perhaps it will go easier with… lowered inhibitions, as you say.” Neroon planted himself, clearly having no intention of moving.

Susan snorted. “Just don’t try to kill each other again. I do not have the time to clean up the political mess that would cause. If you’ll excuse me,” she bowed slightly and took herself out, smirking once the door was shut. Something to discuss indeed. She’d have to see what kind of odds Garibaldi was laying on their favourite pain in the ass… laying, so to speak. She changed her course to run by the security office.

Back in Marcus’ rooms, Neroon took the single uncomfortable chair and set about waiting for the Ranger to wake up. He had intended to corner Marcus after his outburst in the gym to see if the human’s words indicated desires running parallel to his own, but Commander Ivanova had been too quick for him. No matter.

It was no more than half an hour later when Marcus groaned and stirred. Neroon stood to assist him into a sitting position, ordering the lights down slightly when the human squinted.

“Lord, did you catch the number of that lorry?” Marcus winced, rubbing his head. His accent had thickened considerably; fortunately it was still similar enough to the accent of the Warrior Caste when speaking Standard that Neroon had little trouble.

“Lorry?” the Alyt inquired. “I do not know anything about a lorry. Commander Ivanova appears to have given you a great quantity of alcohol. Is there anything I can get you?”

“Water,” Marcus waved vaguely at the tiny excuse for a kitchen in one corner. “Small quantity, large punch. Ow. Never trust a bartender who’s read Douglas Adams. Where’s my towel?” 

“I believe there is a towel hanging on the wall there,” Neroon gestured, bringing over a glass of water.

“Never mind,” Marcus shook his head. “Wait, Neroon? What are you doing here?” he blinked in confusion. “What am I doing here, for that matter?”

“Commander Ivanova brought you here. I encountered her on the way, and offered to stay until you woke. I have something of importance I wish to discuss with you.”

“Oh God, it’s a conspiracy,” Marcus groaned. “I knew it.” He gulped the water slowly. “What did you wish to discuss?” he wondered, looking a little more like himself.

“Your outburst in the gym made me think that you might share certain recent… feelings. Feelings that I have only become aware of in the past few days, but which have probably been driving my actions since our Denn’shah.”

“What feelings?” Marcus wondered, eyes wide and a little startled. 

“Marcus Cole, I find myself attracted to you,” Neroon admitted calmly. “Possibly even in love. If these sentiments are unwelcome I will of course leave, and we will never speak of them again.”

Marcus sat stunned for a long moment, staring at Neroon with wide eyes. The Alyt sighed. It really had been too much to hope for, he supposed. He began to depart, gathering his dignity around him like a shield.

“Wait!” Marcus called, just before he reached the door.

“Yes?” Neroon wondered, not turning.

“I… I have no experience with love. Not the romantic kind. I feel… something for you, something that I do not understand. Will you… will you tell me what love is, Neroon? Help me to understand, so I can answer you honestly?”

Neroon turned at that. Marcus’ eyes were still wide, but now he could read warmth, compassion, and determination on top of the trepidation he’d seen there only a moment ago.

“I will do better than that,” Neroon told him. “I will show you. Look into my eyes, Marcus, and see what I feel for you.”

Their gazes held for a long moment, before Marcus’ eyes fluttered shut and he leaned up into Neroon’s first kiss.


End file.
